Chapter 5 Roan
ROAN
Ifind myself trying not to smile as I watch Taylor hurry into the bookshop, blushing furiously.
They build them big and handsome up in the mountains, huh?
I kind of like the idea of Taylor running away at the thought that I overheard. Like maybe she agrees with her outspoken friend.
This isn’t the first time I’ve caught myself almost smiling today. Normally by now, I would have been fighting not to lose my temper at least once already.
But for some reason, the out-of-towners have been less annoying than usual today. Or maybe I’ve been more patient. At any rate, it’s late morning and I’m feeling pretty good.
“How’s the new location treating you?” Ed Littlewolf asks by way of greeting as he passes by on his way to the Lenni Lenape Museum, where his wife is no doubt giving one of her famous tours.
“Can’t complain,” I say. “Have a good one, Ed.”
Actually, I can complain, I just won’t complain to Ed. I’ve been questioning my decision since I set up the trees here and realized how tough it is for people to park. Plus, half my regulars don’t even know I’m here.
But I’m investing in Meg’s future, or trying to. And I can’t do that without changing some things around.
Erica used to say I was incapable of change. It drove her berserk that I was set in my ways.
But I’m proving her wrong these days, even if it’s only small things. This old dog has a few new tricks up his sleeve.
I start moving trees around, filling in the empty spots with fresh stock from my truck. As I’m placing a big spruce, someone clears their throat behind me.
“Be right with you,” I say. “Hang tight.”
“Are these trees hypoallergenic?” a lady asks without waiting, in a clipped, nasally tone.
“There’s no such thing,” I tell her without turning around.
Honestly, what is wrong with people?
“Of course there is,” she sniffs.
“You’re right,” I say, turning to find her just as I expected—a well-dressed, rail-thin woman with an unpleasant expression. “You can find them at the place across from the diner.”
“That’s more like it,” the lady says, marching off without thanking me.
“I think he’s talking about plastic trees,” her husband points out correctly as he hurries after her. “The place across from the diner is the home goods store. It has plastic trees in the window.”
“How does that man expect to do any business when he doesn’t cater to his customers?” the woman asks the universe, completely ignoring her husband.
Instead of rolling my eyes, I’m trying not to smile again.
Do I really find this funny? What’s gotten into me?
But I already know the answer. My eyes move to the bookshop before I consciously decide to look.
I’ve been trying to catch a glimpse of Taylor Greer all morning. But she left so early, I guess to spend time at the library like she said she would. And now she’s probably hiding in a corner, or flattening herself to the walls just to avoid seeing me.
A chuckle escapes my lips as I picture that, and I wish I had a switch I could flip to turn off the sudden sunlight in my heart.
One night. I spent one night in this young woman’s company, and all of a sudden I’m the kind of guy who can just let things roll off his back? The kind of guy who chuckles to himself?
Thankfully, my dad’s friends the Meyers wander over and start looking at trees and asking how my dad is doing, so I can distract myself with that for a while.
And by the time I’ve got a big spruce secured to the roof of their ancient station wagon, there are more customers waiting. It’s a blessing to have any business at all, and I’m especially grateful when I need a distraction as much as I do today.
By two o’clock, things are slowing down and I’m ready to take a late lunch break. But I’ve got one thing to do first.
Hanging the chain across the lot, I try to guess if she’ll open the door for me.
Of course, Taylor doesn’t know that I could get into that building whenever I want. I know I really need to tell her about it, and I will. But for now, I’m not pushing my way in like that.
For some reason though, I don’t like her shying away from me. Not seeing her through the window all day started off amusing, but now there’s a low rumble of discontent in my chest.
I want her to peek out at me, like yesterday.
I want her to light up when she sees me, the way she does for Meg.
And I want those things more than I want to tease her about her friend’s comment.
But only a little bit more.
I grab some supplies out of my truck and head over to the bookshop, where I knock twice.
Enough time passes that I’ve just about given up when I hear light footsteps.
“Hey,” she says, opening up. “Sorry, I had to put some stuff down.”
“Hey,” I say, taking her in.
She’s wearing jeans and a threadbare sweater again. Her hair is messy, like the little tendrils have slid their way out of her ponytail because they want to caress her neck as much as I do. Her cheeks are flushed, and it’s clear that she’s been working hard.
She is exquisitely beautiful.
“Um,” she hedges, tearing her eyes away and making me remember why I’m here.
“I just came by to paint the window trim,” I tell her, lifting the bag I’m carrying. “Is now an okay time?”
“Of course,” she replies. “And that’s really nice of you.”
“Not really,” I tell her. “After all, I’m the one who broke it.”
“I guess you’re right,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “I’m just going to keep going with the shelves.”
“Of course,” I tell her.
I go to get set up, but when I realize what she’s doing, I’m so surprised I just watch her instead.
Last night she said her plan was to move the shelves so she could pull up the rest of the carpet. And that’s exactly what she’s doing now. But… well, she’s a tiny woman, and the shelves are pretty big.
I’m not sure what I pictured, but it wasn’t her grabbing a seven-foot-high shelf and lifting one side, straining to move it a few inches, and then scurrying over to do the same thing on the other side. No wonder she looks like she’s been getting a workout.
“I know,” she pants when she catches me looking. “But I can’t really afford professional movers right now.”
“You don’t need them,” I tell her, dropping my stuff. “Where do you want that?”
She points to the opposite wall and I move to her, gesturing her out of the way before I grab the thing in a semi-bear hug and walk it over to the spot she pointed to.
“Here?” I ask, turning back to her.
But she’s gazing at me with her lips parted and wonder in those pretty brown eyes.
I’ve never been one to thrive on a woman’s admiration, but I could get used to this.
She nods slowly and I lower the thing to the ground.
“Why don’t I get the rest of them?” I offer.
“I’m not going to argue with that,” she says right away.
“Just tell me where you want them,” I tell her.
She walks me around to point out the new locations. It’s interesting that she wants them running from the outside wall toward the inside, which is the opposite of how they were before.
But as soon as I’ve got a couple of them where she wants them, I see what she’s going for. Jessie had the shelves going front to back. That created longer aisles and didn’t take advantage of the natural light from the windows that face the lot.
“This is a better setup,” I say, as I set the last one down. “You’re working with the natural light you’ve already got.”
“It also allows me to have more, smaller sections,” she says. “And the view of a Christmas tree lot could be good.”
I glance out at my lot. It’s pretty scraggly looking.
There’s some snow, but the area peeking out from under what’s melted is just yellowed grass and mud.
And the trees on their own aren’t so pretty compared to the lavishly decorated shops around them.
Even Taylor has more going on than I do with her red ribbons brightening the garlands on her door and railing, and she’s not even open yet.
“The idea of a Christmas tree lot is probably better than the real thing,” I admit.
“For now, maybe,” she suggests.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask her.
“Well, you’re helping me in here,” she says. “Is there any reason I can’t help you dress up your place a little?”
I’m stunned, but she looks genuinely excited about the idea.
“Really?” I ask.
“Meg could help too,” she suggests.
“She would probably get a kick out of that,” I admit. “What kind of supplies do you need?”
“Not much,” she says. “Some lights for decoration, and just another piece of wood and some paints for a better sign.”
“You’ve been thinking about this,” I realize.
“It’s my main view,” she says with a guilty expression. “No pressure though.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “I’m open.”
And I am. My eyes, my mind, and my heart all seem to be open to this young woman who so effortlessly gets past my guard every time I’m with her.
“Listen,” I say, suddenly wanting to unburden myself. “I need to tell you something, and I hope it doesn’t change things between us.”
“Oh,” she says worriedly. “Okay.”
“I actually own this building,” I say quickly. “Along with the lot, obviously. I bought it in the summertime.”
I wait for her to react to this info, maybe be mad at me for not saying anything before. Or maybe get weird because I’m somehow in charge.
“Wow,” she says lightly. “So you’re the grumpy landlord.”
A chuckle breaks out of my chest before I can stop it and she smiles up at me, looking surprised.
“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “That’s me.”
“Mrs. Perkins is really nice,” she says, frowning. “She wouldn’t call you a grump for no reason.”
“That’s true,” I say, nodding.
“But you’re not a grump,” she says. “At least not always.”
“Oh, I think plenty of people would tell you otherwise,” I say.
“Why are you a grump?” she asks.
No one has ever asked me that before. I guess because they’ve never needed to. I wasn’t always like this. Back in school, I was actually known as kind of a prankster.
And then things changed.
But I’m not getting into my issues with sunny little Miss Bookshop. It’s the last thing she’d want to hear about.
And besides, I kind of like having someone in my life who doesn’t know the whole story.
“Life, I guess,” I answer instead, gesturing vaguely around us.
Her brow furrows like she knows I’m not really answering the question. But to her credit she doesn’t ask any follow-ups.
“Anyway,” I tell her. “I didn’t want you to think I was only helping to be nice. It’s in my interest that the building is well-maintained.”
“Oh no,” she breathes, her eyes widening in worry as she looks down. “The carpet.”
“Yeah,” I say. “It’s fine. I probably should have done it myself. I didn’t realize the floors underneath were in this kind of shape.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” she sighs.
Her relieved smile unlocks something in my chest and I find myself smiling back at her.
“I’m happy to help out with other stuff too,” I hear myself say. “These shelves aren’t the best. If you want them fixed up and painted, just let me know.”
I probably shouldn’t offer. For all I know, she’ll run out her year of lease and move on, and then I’ll be stuck with a shop full of bookshop stuff when the next tenant wants to open a frozen yogurt bar or something.
But I can’t seem to shut my mouth when this girl is around. And anyway, paint doesn’t cost much.
Especially compared to the golden smile she’s giving me right now. I feel like I’m basking in it.
The front door bangs open before I can say anything else that I shouldn’t.
“Dad,” Meg yells.
“Oh, shoot, honey,” I say, turning to her. “I didn’t realize it was getting so late.”
“That’s okay,” she says. “I figured you’d be here.”
“How did you figure that?” I asked.
“It’s where I’d go,” she says as she moves right past me. “Hi, Taylor. You moved the shelves.”
“Well, your dad moved the shelves,” she says with a smile. “I just told him where to put them.”
“It looks better this way,” Meg says, walking around appraisingly. “Now you just need a lot more books.”
“Tell me about it,” Taylor says. “Speaking of which, can I show you a list of books? I want to see if you’ve heard of any of them.”
“Okay,” Meg says.
And just like that, they’re bent over Taylor’s phone chattering away about a bunch of books, and I may as well be part of the background.
So, I apply myself to the paint supplies I brought over, first placing a tarp, and then carefully priming the wood frame.
I love seeing my daughter so happy, but it’s still hard not to let Taylor and Meg’s easy relationship get to me. I spend a lot of time trying to figure out fun stuff to do with Meg and making sure we have time to bond between work and school.
But there’s something special in her conversations with Taylor, a pace to their speech, where they get so excited that they’re talking over each other, and neither of them seems to mind.
I guess that’s more a woman’s thing, and it hurts a little to know there’s a role I can’t fill for her, and a role her own mother can’t be bothered with.
It also scares me how much I like hearing her like this with Taylor.
I don’t want to play the fool again, especially not to a pretty young girl. And I don’t have enough energy left at the end of the day to put into courting a city girl anyway.
You sure have enough energy to fix up her shop, a little voice whispers in the back of my mind.
But this is a one-time thing. I’m not going to make a habit out of it.
“Okay,” Taylor is saying when I come back in from hosing out my brush outside. “I’ll order two of each and we can read them and decide.”
“No way,” Meg says.
“I mean, only if you want to,” Taylor says quickly. “I’m not trying to add more homework to your day.”
“Oh, I want to,” Meg tells her excitedly.
“What’s all this?” I ask.
“Taffy at the library says that the kids at the new school in town really like a few book series,” Taylor explains. “I was thinking I’d order a couple of copies and Meg and I can decide if we think other kids would like them too.”
“It’ll be like a book club,” Meg says excitedly.
“I guess it will,” Taylor agrees, looking pleased.
I don’t even know what to say. I’m happy that they have this. And at the same time, I don’t want Taylor fussing over my daughter just because I’m the landlord, or because she feels sorry for her not having a mom around or something.
“Dad, there’s someone at the lot,” Meg tells me, looking out the window.
“We’d better run,” I say to Taylor.
“Do I have to?” Meg asks.
“We should get out of Taylor’s way,” I say as I head for the door.
“She’s not in the way,” Taylor says. “Is it okay if I borrow her for a little longer? There’s one more set of books I wanted to show her.”
“Sure,” I say, opening the door and heading out into the brisk breeze, trying not to take Meg’s cheer personally.
After all, I guess I’d rather be curled up inside with Taylor Greer than out in my desolate tree lot too.